John Conroy Hutcheson

“ Mr O’Neil, just muster the men in the waist and let us know the worst at once!”
“Faith, ye’re roight, sor; we’d betther count noses an’ have the job over,” returned Garry, sotto voce, singing out in a louder key to the survivors of the fray, who were grouped in the waist about the mainmast, where the remaining Haytians who had not been killed outright were tied up feet to the wrists, as the skipper had told Colonel Vereker when he came up. “Now all you Star of the Norths that are still alive come over here to starboard; the chaps that are d’id, sure, can shtop where they are!” ”

“ Here the skipper put an end to the interview. He had evidently seen and had enough of the Boissons, husband and wife, and, ascending the companion-ladder at the same time as Garry and myself, I heard him muttering to himself as he went along and just caught the following words: “To think—brave men—lose—valuable—save such—theirs—too dreadful. ”